


Saving me ~ Salvándome

by An Unknown Writers World (Hawkeyes_Winter_Soldier)



Category: Mayans M.C. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-05 01:43:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17315702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkeyes_Winter_Soldier/pseuds/An%20Unknown%20Writers%20World
Summary: Summary: Reader had a terrible day at work and needs to be rescued from herself. Fluffy Angel





	Saving me ~ Salvándome

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Angst, mentions of depression; Fluffy Angel(it’s a warning in its self- Although so should Clayton Cardenas’s beautiful face)
> 
> Word Count: 1511
> 
> A/N: Probably not the greatest thing I’ve ever written. But I had a super shitty day and needed to be rescued myself (I struggled to open my own champagne bottle). I also fully believe that there are not enough fluffy Angel fics in the world.
> 
> Works also available on Tumblr: https://an-unknown-writers-world.tumblr.com/post/181750903501/saving-me-salv%C3%A1ndome

It had been a terrible day at the office. It seemed like everyone you had to interact with was either an asshole or incredibly unintelligent. You pulled into the garage at your home and got out; the garage door closed as you entered the house. Making it up the hallway you put your purse and tote bag on the table in the entryway and kicked off your high heels, walking into the kitchen you took your blazer off and hung on the back of an island chair.

You knew you should eat, but food didn’t sound appealing to you. All you really wanted to do was drink a few mimosas and take a bubble bath. You went to grab your phone out of your purse before circling back to the kitchen. You turned on your favorite Spotify playlist and pulled a wine glass out of the cupboard, you sang along to the Halsey song playing in the background as you pulled out the orange juice and champagne. It was a fresh bottle and still needed to be popped. Hoping for an easy task you pealed the wrapper off and untwisted the metal cap holder. You looked at the white plastic cork and felt defeated immediately. This wasn’t going to go as well as you had hoped.

Grabbing a towel, you wrapped it around the cork and held the bottle and pulled. The towel slipped, and you punched yourself in the jaw.

You grunted, “you’ve got to be joking me.”

You stared at the bottle racking your brain on ideas to get the bottle open. You thought about trying to cut it with a knife – but knew you were clumsy and that probably wouldn’t end well. How do other people make this so easy? You thought to yourself.

“Pliers!” You exclaimed.

You scurried to the garage and rummaged through an old toolbox until you found a pair of pliers. Taking them back to the kitchen you tried multiple directions and still couldn’t get it open. Feeling defeated you took the bottle and pliers and sat on the floor, your back leaning against the cabinets. You had an idea on how to get the bottle opened, but it was risky. Deciding your desire for a mimosa was greater than your fear of what could happen you pulled your phone off the counter and typed out a message.

'9-1-1; my house; doors unlocked"

You put your phone on the floor and stared at the bottle in defeat. Fighting with a champagne bottle was not how you wanted to spend the evening; pent-up energy and emotions from a draining day were weighing on you. Tension had pulled your neck and upper back painfully stiff. Your phone vibrated on the floor.

'🔫?'

'Not that kind of emergency."

You laughed at his response before replying and laying to stretch out on the floor. Sending Angel a 911 message was probably not the best way to go about this, but you knew he’d understand once he got here. After what felt like hours you could finally hear the familiar rumble of a motorcycle come down your street. You knew it had only been a few moments but you still felt defeated and grew increasingly frustrated you couldn’t even handle opening a bottle on your own. Depression was starting to set in – you needed a release or escape from this day somehow. The engine cut and within seconds your front door was flying open.

“Mi amor?” Angel called out.

“Here.” You said from the kitchen floor.

He rounded the corner and instantly began laughing.

You looked up at him completely unimpressed. “If I didn’t need you so badly, I’d probably kick you or throw these stupid pliers at your head.” You said holding up the pliers.

He came to sit next to you on the floor, his laugh reducing to a smile; “lo siento querida.”

“Hey,” you said looking at him still frustrated. “don’t get all sexy on me; I’m still mad.”

He reached his hand out to take your own before kissing your knuckles. “Is this where you tell me that falling alone is dangerous and you need one of those lifesaving buttons?”

“And the kid has jokes.” You said to yourself trying not to laugh at him.

“Who you calling kid?” He asked nudging you. “I got eight years on you, remember?”

You looked up at him from your laying position with a pitiful look on your face.

He smiled at you, smoothing your hair back, “que puedo hacer, mamí? (what can I do, mama)”

“I can’t open it.” You mumbled holding the bottle up.

His eyes crinkled, you could tell he was trying not to laugh. You admired his strength to refrain but oddly felt resentment that he couldn’t just let it out. He held out his hand and took the bottle; popping the top off as if it was as simple as tearing a piece of paper.

“I hate you.” You said shuffling over to lay your head in his lap.

“Bad day?” He asked holding one of your hands in his own while the other rubbed softly up and down your back.

“el peor dia (the worst day)”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really; I just wanna forget it happened.”

“Come on,” he said patting your back. “Go change and meet me on the couch.”

You sat up and looked at him, suddenly feeling a little relieved. “You’ll stay?”

“I’ll tell Coco to cover for me.” He stood up before stretching his hands out to help you. “I can’t leave you in this condition.” He finished before kissing your forehead.

Making your way down the hall you headed straight for the closet in the bedroom and pulled off your slacks and dress shirt and tossed them in the hamper. Pulling out your favorite red and black plaid looking sweats and black tank top, you quickly dressed and made your way back to the couch. Angel was already there waiting for you – his kutte hung on the coat rack next to the door and on the table in front of him was a wine glass and a full pitcher of Mimosas; next to it you saw his beer and both your and his phones. He was pulling the blanket off the back of the couch when you sat down next to him.

“C’mere.” He said opening his arms.

You leaned into his chest where his arms wrapped around you tightly after laying the blanket over you. Curling into his chest you were thankful for his warmth and the scent you breathed in that could only be described as Angel – a hint of oakmoss, sandalwood, worn leather, and tobacco. It was intoxicating and soothing.

Angel shuffled with the remote until he found ‘How I Met Your Mother’. It was your favorite show when you were having a bad day and he knew it. He put the remote on the table and sunk down on the couch a little to be snuggled a little closer to you. This was just the kind of escape you needed but could never admit

“Thank you.” You murmured into his chest. “Sorry for 911ing you.”.

He tightened his grip on you and kissed the top of your head. “It’s okay mi amor.” One of his hands began to rub up and down your bag again, slowly and in a soothing motion. “I wish you could see that it’s okay to be needy sometimes, especially with me. I know you think that you always need to be my rock and I appreciate that, and I love it. But sometimes I think you forget that I am supposed to be the same for you.”

“I don’t want to burden you when I’m like this.” You say truthfully.

“My love, you can never be a burden to me,” Angel said emphasizing the word never. “You are my everything – my world, my heart, and soul. It breaks my heart to see you like this.”

“I’ll be okay. I promise.” You reassure him.

“I’ll deal with your boss tomorrow and have Coco tell Bishop I’m off the grid for a few days. You and I are going to spend the weekend together.”

“Angel, I’ll be okay, really. You don’t need to do that. I know they need you.” You said pulling away to look at him.

He hushed you. “I want to do this. They are fine without me for a few days.”

You looked at him hesitantly.

“Please, mi amor. Let me spend the weekend showing you how much I love you.”

You nodded. “Okay, but only because I am terrible at telling you no.”

He kissed you. “Now please, get some rest.”

You knew it was a losing battle to argue with him. He would demand, and you would resist for a while, but in the end, you would give in to whatever would make him happiest. If you were being completely honest – a weekend shut in the house with Angel sounded amazing in so many ways. You just wished it was under different circumstances than one of your depression fits.


End file.
